The Tournament of Harrenhal
by aland
Summary: Rhaegar Targaryen wins the Tourney and crowns Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty.


"Harrenhal! Harrenhal!"

Rhaegar Targaryen observed the other man from across the dusty field and raised his lance to the crowds in quiet. They thundered at him like a boiling storm, and he turned to face the Sword of the Morning. He smiled. _Here we are, my friend, and neither of us wanted the glory._

Ser Arthur Dayne, who lifted a bronzed jousting polearm that glittered like Dawn itself. He saluted Rhaegar and then it started. Both men galloped at each other with such speed they might have deflected the Faceless Men's throwing daggers. The thousands of men and women and children in attendance stood and roared like tidal waves from the Gods, and then the Prince of Dragonstone and the Sword of Morning narrowed their lances. They closed the distance and struck at each other, and both men reeled with such intensity that they staggered half off their destriers.

Twelve lances broke before the duel ended and Ser Arthur Dayne laughed and put an arm on Rhaegar's shoulder at its end. Both the men were in their armor yet. Ser Dayne glistening in the fabled Kingsguard armament, and Rhaegar in the black and rubied relic of the Targaryen dynasty.

"I should kill you here and now for making me so damn sore," Dayne said.

"I've little doubt you could," Rhaegar said, his smile faint. _War should not be celebrated. Not even with jousting lances._ And yet he couldn't help feeling good despite the soreness in his chest. The two of the men were arm in arm and watching the thousands who cried their names.

"Rhaegar! Rhaegar! Rhaegar!"

"I think they like you," Dayne remarked.

"Everyone loves a winner," the Prince said, and with one adroit snap, he had removed his feathered helm and looked up and put a hand over his eyes to shield the sun. He spotted her in the stands, and she gazed down at him with storm gray eyes and stark black hair and _such_ beauty. Her face was smiling and he breathed hard. He turned then and looked at his wife. She beamed at him and he felt awash with sudden guilt and yet there was nothing he could do.

The next duel was Barristan the Bold. The knight was ferocious and tenacious both, but Rhaegar won the tournament through a narrow victory, and he saluted Barristan, who gave a firm salute back. _A good man_, Rhaegar thought.

The ceremony was short and caused near the same uproar as the finale. _What am I if not true to myself? Shall I be the next mad king? _He glanced at Dayne just prior to the ceremony and his friend had watched him with a wary smile. The two had discussed it. Dayne knew his innermost thoughts and hadn't approved and yet there was nothing he could do.

He went before her and bent to her and looked into her eyes. Lyanna's eyes were clouded. She looked distraught and then surprised and then ..pleased. Her face lit not like the sun nor the moon but like the stars between. The Starks were solemn and yet he could see the pleasure on her face which reddened like the ripe tomatoes of spring. _Gods, she's beautiful._

He took the crown of winter roses and the bluish tint silvered under the sunlight and glinted pale like Winter solstice. He placed it gently atop her head and his silver hair, uncrowned by helm, tumbled gently to her hands. "I'm sorry," he said to her, and she smiled at him.

"It's fine." She watched him and her pale face resembled a chrysalis under the fiery sunlight and yet there was fire in her to match it. He could see desire reflected in her gray eyes.

"I am told you fought. I thought we might share the reward," he said.

"Did I?" Lyanna arched a delicate eyebrow.

"Are you not the Knight of the Laughing Tree?" Rhaegar asked.

"Trees do not laugh. Such a silly name for a knight."

"Fine," Rhaegar said with a grin. "Have it your way."

Rhaegar turned to the crowd and gestured to Lyanna.

"The Queen of Love and Beauty!"

The crowd did not thunder. The crowd did not speak. There were scattered gasps across the field and it echoed into Harrenhal's horizon. Rhaegar did not take notice. He did not look at Elia, who he knew would gasp the same as the plainfolk. He was still looking at Lyanna and she at him and for a moment the world was as frozen as the Wall beyond.

"I will have you," he said to her, and he left her knowing he would never be the Mad King.

He looked back at Lyanna. There was shock in her eyes and she smiled a brave smile that would have thawed ice.


End file.
